


This Isn't Stalking, I Swear

by RebellionOfTheFly



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Crush at First Sight, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Not Canon Compliant, Original Character Death(s), Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:59:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17523194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebellionOfTheFly/pseuds/RebellionOfTheFly
Summary: Trust the first person that was nice to Ed Nygma to be a notorious assassin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've stumbled into another rarepair and my want for non-smut content with it has produced this.
> 
> I'm sorry, internet.

Victor Zsasz was undoubtedly confused.  
Famed and feared, people generally understood that they should probably not annoy him. The GCPD officers were especially versed in this information. This fraction of intelligence and survival instinct failed to pass over to Forensics. This was why, long story short, he found himself in Ed Nygma's apartment.

 

They say that killers always return to the scene of the crime and, as a joke and a dare, Victor had. It was a dark, grimy back alley where H.F.White had gone from a witness to a victim. 

The GCPD had contaminated the place like flies by the time that Victor perched on the roof to watch it all. People who didn't know that they were watched were always amusing. This time, his favourite was a man whose unbridled joy seemed strikingly out-of-place for a murder investigation. As Victor watched closer, it occurred to him that the man would seem out-of-place anywhere. (With a smirk, he thought of one fitting place but that was out of the realms of possibility. Still, though. You couldn't blame him for his imagination.) 

It wasn't long after Victor arrived that the GCPD began to filter away. The Man was one of the last to leave, enthusiastically wishing goodbyes that fell on deaf ears. Victor - who killed without mercy; tortured with a grin; and excelled in cold-blood murders - felt a stab of sympathy. Oh, well. If no-one else would talk to The Man, Victor would have to.

 

When Ed wandered into his apartment, he felt the cold wash over him. The window was open. Excuse the pun, but he was frozen to the spot. The door slowly shut behind him. "Was than louder than usual?" He murmured, forgetting the current issue. "Or am I just... Tense?"

"It was that loud when I came in," responded a thoughtful voice.

Ed was sure that he jumped at the sound of the voice. Or, maybe, he tripped. Eitherway, he was significantly further away from the door and the notorious hitman had gotten much closer. He seemed to be smiling, which (unbeknownst to Ed) was an attempt at appearing friendly. Unsurprisingly, it failed.

Ed attempted speech, with attempted being the key word. It was more of a slurred stutter and a deranged, nervous giggle. Naturally, Victor found it to be cuter than he could have ever imagined. The voicing of this opinion resulted in a flustered Ed and a corrected Victor. Those pink cheeks were much better.

Ed glanced down as he spoke, wringing his hands. "Are you- Are you here for any real reason?"

Victor shrugged, slowly wandering over to Ed's kitchen and lifting himself onto the counter. A sweet, but contextually worrying, smile creeped onto his face. "Here to see you." The intonation made this sounds like a question, which Ed thought would be more fitting.

"We don't-"

"Know eachother? Yeah, right." Victor chuckled at the thought. "I imagine that I give you overtime every once in a while."

Ed returned to his earlier state of being frozen when the identity of his intruder became apparent. Victor rolled his eyes and gave a horrifically fake cough. This, thankfully, was one social cue that Ed could grasp. "Edward." There was a pause of silence. "Nygma."

Victor smiled at the revelation. "Can you cook?" He suddenly blurted. "I'm starving."

Ed nodded, enthusiastically, and smiled at the attention - even if it was from a literal psychopath. His walk past Victor, who kept his cold yet lively eyes fixated on Ed like a hawk on its prey, was less terrifying than Ed imagined. It was, infact, not very special at all. Passing a stranger on the street would evoke more negative emotion. Something about Victor Zsasz, perhaps the sense of unpredictability surrounding him, felt familiar to him. Homely.

"What do you want?" Ed asked, partially aware that Victor had inched closer to stand behind him. On his toes, he looked over Ed's shoulder. For a moment, he wondered if resting his chin there would be pushing it but, overall, decided against it. Too close, too fast. 

Then again, that image of where Ed belonged seemed more and more appealing with each moment. 

But, no. No, it was too soon. No, he would scare him away. No, he could hurt him. No, he'd be his weakness. Victor took a step back. Most decisions that he made were clear-cut, no regrets, but he never should have broken into the apartment.

Then, that face was there and he forgot the risk. In that moment, there was just soft, brown hair; dark, puppy-dog eyes and a soft, worried voice that asked if he was okay.

'Yes', Victor decided. He was okay.


	2. Apartment Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor isn't bitter. Not at all. This is just a visit, BecauseApparentlyHeIsn'tGoodEnoughForAnApartmentKey,RightEd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time taken to update.
> 
> Also, this has clearer innuendos. I don't know what you expected from a Victor fic but I'm warning you.

Even Victor had to admit that this wasn't his smartest plan. He'd known that before he got to the building, but the true idiocy only sunk in when he tore his clothes on the window. It didn't help that he had to hide twice because not-Ed people were determined to look inside.

But, when Ed did enter, it was worth it. For five seconds.

"Victor," Ed had squeaked, practically slamming the door behind himself. The adorable pink cheeks were back, Victor noted with a smile. "You're here... At my work."

Victor's face fell. Ed always looked uncomfortable but he hadn't seen him so afraid since they first met. "You okay?"

Ed blinked rapidly and cast a glance behind himself to the door. "Yes. Yeah. But, you really can't be here."

Victor shrugged, masking his regret for causing the fear evident on Ed's face, and took a step closer. "I'll be gone, soon. I wanted to say hi."

Ed couldn't help but smile, eyes flicking down to the floor before eventually meeting Victor's. "You could have waited until I finished work."

"I don't have your apartment key."

"That failed to stop you when we met."

Victor stood up straight, defensively. "We weren't dating, then."

Ed pushed himself further into the door and rolled his eyes. "A, keep it down. B, that's worse."

"Keep it down?" Victor repeated, smirking incredulously. "Saying that we're dating, I keep it down but the rest is fine? I think they'd question this whether we're talking or fucking."

" _Victor_ ," Ed squeaked. "We haven't even- I mean, I, uh-" Ed stumbled over his words again, which few things but Victor's bluntness (and general presence, on occasion) could make him do. He forced out a cough, clearing his throat. "I do, infact, think it would change things." At an eyebrow raise that could only mean 'what the fuck did you just say', Ed mentally stabbed himself in the gut. "For the GCPD."

Victor nodded at the addition and began to idly wander. "So... Planning to to let me in your apartment or not?" Ed bit his lip, which was really not helping his case of keeping Victor out of his apartment. "What are you so afraid of?"

Ed chuckled at the question. For once, Victor had hit the nail on the head. Fear. It was even worse in that his fear was entirely unnecessary. Or, atleast, it was with Victor. Really, he should be more afraid of his boyfriend than this old, everpresent fear allowed him. But, no. Ed had hurt - or decimated, rather - anything that he ever loved and not even the object of his affection being an assassin could tame his worry.

For now, though, Victor was pushing his face into Ed's neck like a cat as an attempt to make him smile. And, even if it was just on the merit of dedication, it worked. Obviously glad to be able to stop, Victor drew back and grinned. "Is that a yes or no to your apartment?"

Ed practically scoffed. "I don't quite think you'd be deterred from visiting by a no."

"So?" 

"You'll find the door unlocked. "

 

 

When Victor arrived at Ed's apartment - shooting glares at the neighbours who saw him on the way - the scent of homecooked food had drifted into the hall. Ed was truly a man after his heart. Then, he walked into _that_ and he wasn't so sure.

"Victor. Hi." Ed sat on the floor, crosslegged, with a beaming smile on his face. Papers lay around him like sigils around a demon and a hideous, runt-of-the-litter stray cat was on his lap. His face fell slightly at Victor's expression. "Is something wrong?"

Victor inhaled deeply, grasping wildly at his hastily fleeting composure. "Why the fuck is there a cat here?" 

Looking rather insulted by Victor's disapproval, Ed covered the entirely unaffected cat's ears with his hands. "She's only here for a day," he moped. 

Victor quietly entered the apartment and sat in front of Ed and the cat, resting his chin on his fist with anticipated boredom. "I must admit that I also had... alternate plans for tonight," Ed had murmured, refusing to meet Victor's eyes.

Victor's head shot up, eyes wide. After a moment of silence, he dipped his head back down again. "Believe it or not, Ed, this isn't my first time being cockblocked by a cat." 


	3. Snap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thoroughly sorry for:  
> 1\. The time taken  
> 2\. The previous chapter's quality
> 
> This chapter is largely inspired by a comment on the first.

To say that Ed was angry was an understatement. He was furious. Rage spread through his thoughts like disease through the Narrows, leaving his hands shaking and his breath ragged.

He'd promised himself he wouldn't think about it. He failed. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't get involved. He failed. He promised himself that that he could convince her to save herself. He failed. His next promise was to keep himself away, not take the other route, but his track record was a weeping, bruised mess with a voice weaker than his morals and he feared for breaking that promise.

So, when he picked open the lock to Ed's apartment, Victor found Ed with his head in his hands. For a moment, he just stood. Beyond his natural state of cocking his head and remaining perfectly silent, he was blind to what he could do. Eventually - after several minutes of Ed's occasional, sharp breaths - he put his hand on Ed's shoulder. Despite the uncharacteristically gentle touch, Ed jumped at the contact and barrelled forwards into Victor - who enclosed a hand around his arm to keep him still. Ed's movements were frantic, but contained as much irritation as fear. Victor guessed that he should have been slightly glad, since fear was worse than anger, but he had never seen his boyfriend with such extremity of the emotion.

After a while of Ed staring down at the ground next to himself, Victor found his voice. "What's up?"

"It's nothing."

"Liar," Victor whispered, though he dropped his grip. Ed didn't move, instead relaxing until he was practically leaning on him. Silence - or as much silence as the apartment could ever allow - swallowed them both.  


 

He didn't know how he ended up here. Well, he knew that he'd thought of the bruises that scattered across Miss Kringle's skin and just how they reminded him of his scars. But, all else was impulse and heart: An area which Ed found himself uncertain and inexperienced but was quickly wading into from all angles.

This thought process of questioning all took place in a burst of three seconds as Ed's eyes locked on the figure of Dougherty. As he neared Miss Kringle's door, Ed fumbled for his door and shakily burst from his car. "Stop right there, buster." Even he could hear the waver in his voice. 

"Riddle man?" Dougherty mocked, his usual amusement making way for disbelief. His back arched, ready for defence, though he knew how pointless that was. "What are you doing, creeping around here?"

Ed gulped in response, forcing out words like they hurt him to utter. It was more an anticipation of pain, really. "You need to leave Miss Kringle alone."

Dougherty would've scoffed if this didn't seem so familiar. He'd only seen this petrified, solemn manner in the street kids which he picked up on petty charges. It was pathetic, but intriguing. With a call of "What?", he strode forwards.

"I'm not going to let you hurt her, ever again." This time, Dougherty's face split into a grin. He stayed quiet. "I think you need to leave Gotham, tonight."

This was too much for Dougherty, who had finally reached Ed. Laughter, which came as an assault upon him, dripped from the officer's mouth. When their eyes met, Ed flinched. "I get it now. You've got a thing for my girl."

If he hadn't been distracted by his disgust in the ownership-like-phrasing, Ed would have argued back in a lecture of all the things wrong with that guess or exclaimed pity for the poor people affected by the cases which Dougherty had been assigned to. Instead, he froze.

"This is too funny," Dougherty had continued, before his expression sobered. His hand landed on Ed's shoulder - so different to how Victor had done it, but eliciting the same response - and his fist drove into his stomach. The impact made him double over and all air abandoned his lungs. The pain throbbed like he'd come to know and spread like blood.

On his knees, Ed was both numb and deeply, unimaginably alive. The coarse, rain-soaked ground that pressed into his legs and the distant death of all logic were background noise. The way that his hand enclosed around the knife in his coat was real and present and immediate. The glide of the blade into flesh was just as simple. The pain he caused: It was almost elegant.

Then, Ed looked up. His eyes found that of a person and more worry filled him than regret. "Oh, dear." Dougherty staggered forwards and he drove the knife forwards again. The unceasing presence and life caused him to continue, blade entering and exiting the stomach in rapid succession.

Before he knew it, he had Dougherty on his knees - held upright only by Ed's grip on his coat. The face that once sneered and mocked lay waste to numb, disorientated confusion. "Riddle man?" Ed let go.

For a moment, Ed didn't see officer Tom Dougherty, he saw a person. He saw each innocent citizen, he saw the bodies in the morgue, he saw the potential for life and good and honesty. But, laughter began to tumble out and his knife had the blood of retribution and safety, not a person.

 

Victor was a man of instinct. It was the only way to conduct his hits and the way that he survived them. On that night, as it dragged him out of bed and towards his boyfriend's apartment, he cursed it. He needed to check that Ed was okay, though, or the ' _off_ ' feeling would never leave.

As he unlocked the door and made his way to where Ed slumped over a table without so much as the man stirring, Victor realised that maybe he was just surprising and Ed was okay.

That was, until he saw the suitcases. His immediate reaction was that they were for a harmless vacation, but he would have been told. Then, an urgent business trip, but it was too organised for a sudden call.

Tentatively, Victor knelt and opened one case. The scents of rot and blood made him aware of death before he even saw the dismembered body, not that it mattered in reducing the shock. Blinking rapidly, Victor pulled his hands back to his knees and straightened his back. His eyes flicked over his shoulder to Ed, who snored lightly.

After what seemed like an eternity of crouching before the decimated corpse, a grin found its way onto Victor's face. At least, he didn't have to worry, as much. Ed could certainly handle himself. The thought of him - with his awkward smiles and innocent looks - hacking into a body was enough to make Victor laugh.

Finding out that they had a common interest wasn't enough for Victor. He needed to know who, why. Anything which turned Ed to crime was fascinating. He quickly found his answer in the top drawer of Ed's nightstand, in the form of officer Tom Dougherty's badge.

 

Rather than his alarm, it was light that woke Ed, which failed to catch his attention. Nor was he aware that he'd awoken in a different place to where he fell asleep. All he knew was that this was the day in which he needed to dispose of the corpse. That's why he _did_ notice the movement of the suitcase. It was only slight, as if it had been nudged when he walked past, but it was enough for hysteria to hastily bubble up in his mind.

First things first, he ensured that the door was locked. Then, as quickly as the dread of impending doom allowed him, he returned to the suitcases. They opened easily, and the familiar stench of death met him, but only blood remained. In the place of the bodies lay a small card, with a hasty scrawl of Victor's name and a congratulations on his new "hobby". Though disturbed at the apparent ease to discover his crime, Ed found himself smiling.

His next thought was wonder at how people could mess this up so much to get caught. Then again, as far as he was aware, most people were neither dating assassins nor working in the GCPD.


End file.
